.https://tinyurl.com/yd8kxt9s: and this was at a time when i actually cared what girls thought... as any chubby kid prior to the age mid 16... cared so much... like any boy... then the backfire... so i thought: well... i know of a girl that won't back down, Sophia... and she certainly didn't teach me to regurgitate logic like a sophist might... new experience... and? ever since? so date with Jack was ever the same... i really used to care what girls thought... but... eh... these days? i care whether the bottom of the bottle looks like a telescope, or a mirage of a kaleidoscope... guess all the shame went out the window... selfish... selfish... hmm... then i guess all the monks are paying dues for that kind of existential hostage heist of - otherwise unwanted enlarged *****-loads of heart, mind, hope... my kind of poker... but thank god i don't that the sort of egoism of a ***** donor, like i'm some prime material for cloning... phew!
i listen to these commentary videos on politics,
and then... i reach a saturation
point... oi! Joe! Joe! where you goin'?
to the jazz club? me come with...
i've had enough... i get enough news
when i visit my grandparents with my
grandmother watching more
news than her age-restricted bracket
of Mexican or Turkish telenovelas...
does my nuts in!
i'd rather watch a ******* telenovela
than the corporate news...
at least i'd be watching someone akin
to tuba büyüküstün
(**** me, they went wild on
the diacritical marks there... didn't
they? do they match up to
the scalpel of syllables within the word?) -
hey! granny! put that **** back on,
she's showing a healthy cut of
thighs and the upper legs,
cut, right, above the knee!
i too miss the internet...
like it was... in 2007 through to
2000 &... 17?
well sure as **** no **** Sherlock
it wasn't 2016...
i appreciate the work
of the counter-media...
but after a while...
i get bloated...
too much information...
and nothing of the sort i can
speak to people about within
or outside age bracket within this
restricted space...
so i fill up the tank, realizing
it all ends with: oh, right...
the same ******* tomorrow?
and then i desperately try to find new
music... musing over a sudoku puzzle...
taking another painkiller swig of
bourbon saying to myself:
isn't this, just the most bountiful night
filled with the oddest beauties
encapsulated most by the shadow
on the face of the moon?
as ever, my number one motto:
stay low, steer the undercurrent -
seek no exposure...
enjoy the drinking,
but esp. enjoy the music...
but **** me...
i miss 2004... or was it 2005?
whichever year it was...
i remember having a race with this
guy on a Tour de France type of bike...
and i was mulling this thick-tier
mountain bike from
Bałtów to Ostrowiec Św. -
but i still remember my 50+km leisure
route...
there are only two ways to lose
weight without having problems
of excess skin hanging like punctured
fat balloons...
cycling... or swimming...
nope... you go to the gym to lose
that weight? you'll be in need of
plastic surgery...
**** the diet...
coffee is not coffee if you don't drink it
with either full-fat milk or cream...
i've seen what a coffee with skimmed
milk looks like...
looked at a receptionist's cuppa in
the local g.p. surgery...
diluted mud-water...
same argument with low
fat yogurt: instant diabetes -
you, need, fat...
you can't fake fat with
excess sugars...
plus... the texture?
orangutan snot probably tastes
better...
no... gym is a bad idea
for losing weight...
had a "friend" (fwend) who thought
it was worthwhile...
guess now he can test what
a tattoo looks like in old age...
skin as elastic as a ******* parachute...
running? bad for the knees...
plus? 50+km on a bike?
think of the scenery!
- and you require but only
afternoon session when the heat's off...
roughly 2 hours...
sure... after the weight is gone...
**** that gym membership...
but?
not prior...
you lose weight by concentrating
on a calorie equilibrium
with either your legs...
or your torso...
but let's face it...
i didn't swim much...
so basically your legs... on a bicycle...
what was that route i loved so much...
ah...
the 754...
through various names country
roads... heading back on Iłżecka
(a road's name borrowed from
the town of Iłża - en route to Warsaw -
a medieval road -
now passed on route no. 9) -
more fun than pretending to
be a tourist in central London...
bicycle... late afternoon...
the road...
and the endless
fried pine patches of forest...
there's nothing about home as
the perfumes of the land...
however grotesque -
which does include farm animal
manure...
but **** me...
Paris perfumeries can hide,
shy... from their poignant scents...
farm animal manure
and hay...
but later afternoon pine...
and the wheat fields...
and the grass...
come to think of it...
i never realized that i cycled into
a completely different county...
like me going from Essex
through to Kent...
fun as ****...
plus i sometimes stopped at this
old woman's hut...
and bought some goat's milk.
